After Lin Xiaofan unexpectedly dies, he becomes an emperor of the Great Ming.
Lin Xiaofan feels as if an invisible hand has clenched his heart in a vice, then shoved him into a high-speed centrifuge and sent him spinning wildly. On the 27-inch monitor before him, dense lines of code writhe like tadpoles, swelling until they blur into a blinding white light. The sounds that have filled his ears for 72 hours, the clatter of his keyboard, the hum of the air conditioner, and the incessant “ding” of his project manager tagging him in the DingTalk group chat, are abruptly replaced by a piercing buzz deep inside his skull.
